


teach me to fight

by LoveIsNotAVictoryMarch



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Bottom Castiel, Canon Universe, Come Eating, Come Marking, Dean is Bad at Feelings, Facials, First Kiss, First Time, Frottage, Grace Sex, Graceless Castiel, Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Masturbation, Messy, POV Alternating, Porn with Feelings, Prompt Fic, Resolved Sexual Tension, Rimming, Shameless Smut, Switching, This is Getting Out of Hand, Top Dean Winchester, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2018-12-29 02:37:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12072837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveIsNotAVictoryMarch/pseuds/LoveIsNotAVictoryMarch
Summary: Castiel asks Dean to teach him to fight. Dean has mixed feelings about that.





	1. Chapter 1

Dean’s eyes are narrowed in concentration when he drenches the cotton ball in alcohol and brings it to the gash on Cas‘ face. It stings, a sharp bite into his raw skin. Cas had other wounds over the years, and they hurt a lot more, but he hates this specific pain the most. The sting equals defeat, it equals weakness. Cas hates the worried look on Dean’s face, he hates the shame for needing this kind of treatment for a small flesh wound, he hates his fading grace for failing him more often than not.  
  
His teeth hurt from clenching his jaw. Dean mutters under his breath as he gets more supplies. Cas can’t stand the silence.  
  
“Teach me to fight,” he says. Cas’ throat is raw and dry, his voice a mere rasp, but Dean heard him, turns his head just far enough that Cas can see his profile. An eyebrow curves up over a too green Iris.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Teach me to fight,” Cas repeats although he knows Dean understood him the first time. “You and Sam are unscathed, it’s only me who got hurt. Without my grace, I am a … liability.” The word tastes ashen in his mouth.  
  
Dean smirks. “That’s not true, Cas. And it’s only a few scratches, no big deal.”  
  
“Dean.”  
  
One sharp word, and Dean shoulders slump. He obviously knows he’s being unreasonable. Good.  
  
“You’re right. Can’t hurt to train a bit and show you some tricks.” He turns and rummages in the first aid kit. His neck is flushed. “You should ask Sam, he’s good with all sorts of guns and blades.”  
  
Irritation churns in Cas’ gut. It’s as unpleasant as the alcohol on his open wounds. “I asked you.”  
  
The muscles of Dean’s shoulder bundle up as if he’s waiting for a blow. His hands still on the box containing bandages and pain medication. He seems to debate what to say, how to say no to Cas.  
  
“Forget it,” Cas bites out, just as Dean murmurs, “Okay.”  
  
They look at each other for a moment. Then Cas nods. Dean finishes dressing his wounds. He’s already at the door when he tells Cas to come to the gym the next morning.  
  


—  
  


Dean is barefoot, clad into soft grey sweatpants and a black t-shirt, and he stands across from Cas on the padded part of the gym. His hands are curled into loose fist. His jaw is set. His body radiates confidence. Cas couldn’t tear his eyes away even he wanted to.  
  
Cas dressed in loose black pants and one of Dean’s old t-shirts. The soft material feels strangely intimate on his skin. The soles of his feet are pressed into the elastic floor.  
  
“Come at me,” Dean says, and Cas surges. Dean told him the goal would be to incapacitate him, not hurt him. Cas hooks his foot around Dean’s shin and pushes his shoulder, but Dean anticipates the motion. He steps out of Cas’ reach easily and gets Cas’ arm behind his back. Cas could break his hold with force, but he can’t rely on his extra strength forever, so he keeps still. Hot breath meets Cas’ ear when Dean grunts, “Try again.”  
  
They go again, and again. Most of the time, Dean wins because he knows uncountable tricks to free himself, tricks learned in bar fights and under cloudy dark skies at cemeteries.  
  
Cas copies Dean’s movements only to find his arm on his back or his body pressed face down on the floor. Dean starts to sweat and the sharp smell of his exertion fills the air and Cas’ lungs, a scent like wet earth and crushed herbs. Dean’s face is flushed and shining, his breathing labored, but he smiles and asks Cas to try again with a rasp in his voice that sends sparks along Cas’ spine.  
  
A well-known and never admitted tension builds in the room. The walls echo with their grunts and the carnal noise of flesh meeting flesh. Their bodies dance through the motions now, action and reaction, sometimes full of precision, sometimes on pure instinct. Dean’s hands grab him and pull him closer, shove him away, push him down.  
  
Cas finds it hard to breathe.  
  
He lunges again and manages to make Dean stumble. With a small cry of victory Cas grabs Dean’s hands and pins them over his head, kneels over him. He keeps Dean’s thighs in place with his shins. Dean inhales when Cas settles his weight back.  
  
Oh.  
  
The smile falls from Cas’ face at the feeling of Dean’s arousal. His own body responds instantly and there’s nothing he can do to stop it, no way to hide it under the thin material of his pants. Blood flows to his groin and leaves him dizzy. Time stands still. Dean averts his glassy eyes, closes his lids, retreats from Cas in what Cas can only assume is shame or disgust.  
  
“Dean?”  
  
The body under him rumbles with a low humorless laugh. “This is why you should’ve asked Sam.”  
  
Cas bites his lip when the movement brings Dean’s hardness in contact with the sensitive area between Cas’ legs. The smallest of motions leads to pressure and friction, and Cas is so very aware of it, and he wants, with a fierceness that shocks him. The longing and the curiosity and the love he always, always feels for Dean constrict in his gut, form into an urgent, heated need. He can’t help but move again. They both gasp.  
  
Dean’s eyes fly open and meet Cas’.  
  
Cas tries to decipher what he finds in Dean’s stare: Shock, disbelief, desire, fear - all mingled together, and Cas understands because he feels all of that too, but most of all he selfishly, greedily doesn’t want this to end. If he lets go of Dean’s hands, Dean will get up and leave and never speak of it again. They stood on this precipice before. Cas knows Dean well, and at the same time, he feels like he knows nothing, will never know enough to make sense of the infuriating, undeniable, exhilerating bond that chains Cas’ life to Dean’s.  
  
And so Cas stays right where he is and waits for Dean to say something, or do something, at least acknowledge what happens between them. Just this once. In a way, and it’s a nasty thought, Cas wants Dean to feel just as helpless as he is.  
  
Dean’s gaze flicks down over Cas’ body to where Cas’ pants are tented obscenely, and stays there. A soft defeated sound falls from his lips, before he licks them wet and shiny. “Cas, I…” he whispers and trails off. Swallowing and lifting his eyes to meet Cas’, he tries again. “We…”  
  
Cas moves before he can think it through. He leans forward and presses his lips to Dean’s, hard, bruising, as if this is just another part of their sparring, and when Dean’s moans against his mouth Cas takes advantage of the crack in Dean’s defenses and slips his tongue between Dean’s lips. Wet heat greets him, and Cas licks into the cavern of Dean’s mouth to taste him or silence him or both, he’s not sure.  
  
Kissing always seemed so pointless, a redundant human ritual in the mating dance, and he’d watched it with the curiosity of the detached scientist for eons. That was before Dean turned Cas’ existence upside down. Dean taught him a burger is more than its atoms, and a starry night more than the absence of clouds. Now a fight turns into a kiss turns into a fight, lines blurred between desire and anger and the need to stake a claim, and Cas’ blood surges in euphoria as Dean opens up for him, lets him in, gives up, surrenders.  
  
Their lower bodies start moving on their own accord. Immobilized, Dean can do nothing more than buck up in short aborted thrusts. Too much and not enough. Cas scoots up until the tip of Dean’s erection nudges against Cas’ entrance. Cas’ whole body freezes with how much he wants. He breaks their kiss to breathe and sighs against Dean’s slick lips.  
  
“Let me go,” Dean urges and struggles against Cas’ hold. A pang of regret shoots down Cas’ spine, but he loosens his hold on Dean’s wrists, of course he does. He was greedy, and now Dean will flee. His body still buzzes with arousal, but his mind is shocked cold.  
  
The second Dean is free, Cas is pushed over and lands on his back with a thump that rattles his bones. Dean is on him in a blink, a burning, solid, heavy weight. Cas has no chance to adjust before Dean’s lips are on him again and Dean kisses him as if he’s starving.  
  
The new position brings their lengths together through the soft fabric of their pants. Cas’ gasps his pleasure into Dean’s mouth where it gets swallowed and multiplied by Dean’s insistent tongue. Dean moves his hips, makes sinful use of the new leverage and the friction sends bolts of heat through Cas’ groin. He bucks up to seek more of it. Dean’s hand shoots down to his hip to keep him still.  
  
“No,” he growls against Cas’ lips, “My turn.”  
  
Their teeth clash together when Dean kisses him, and Cas can’t decide what’s more perfect – the demanding heat of Dean’s mouth or the hard snap of Dean’s hips. Every muscle in his body tenses, and a small detached part of his mind tells him that his body is readying itself for his climax. That clinical part recognizes the burning in his groin and the pressure in his spine and the tightness in his testicles. But empiric date cannot prepare him for the immediacy, the helplessness and vulnerability of it all. His hands claw at Dean’s back. He’s untethered, drowning, falling.  
  
Dean’s rhythm falters as the ropes of muscle under Cas’ palms constrict and bundle up. Dean pushes his upper body up on his hands and finds Cas’ gaze. It’s too easy to picture them naked, bodies joined, claiming each other in every possible way. Cas wants it all.  
  
Dean’s eyes are dark and unfocused and a crease builds between his brows. His lips fall open on a broken sound. With a last thrust he stills and his face goes slack. So peaceful, Cas thinks, while his own blood is still on turmoil. The heat of Dean’s release, so close to where Cas strains towards his own, is tangible even through the layers separating them.  
  
Cas presses his lower body up against Dean, wants to feel the proof of their shared pleasure on his skin, he wants Dean to spill over Cas’ stomach, his thighs, his hand, his lips… yes, he wants … Cas’ fingertips sink into the meat of Dean’s back, his toes curl, a hoarse shout rips from his lungs. Dean’s eyes never leave his. A look of awe is softening his features, and Cas can’t tell if it’s caused by the aftershocks of Dean’s orgasm or by watching Cas’. He only knows he needs to see it again.  
  
Dean’s mask rebuilds as their breathing evens out. Cas’ reaches up to cup Dean’s cheek as if his touch could stop the process. He can’t. The angles of Dean’s face harden under his fingertips, and Cas can sense him slipping away even if Dean never moves.  
  
“Don’t go,” Cas whispers.  
  
Dean closes his eyes. He turns his face into Cas’ palm and says nothing.  
Cas waits and waits. There’s nothing he can do but wait and watch Dean fight this fight on his own.  
  
At last Dean nods. He never opens his eyes when he leans down to capture Cas’ lips once more, slower now, sweeter, softer.  
  
They have lost so many battles, but they might still win the war.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this wasn't planned at all but since a few of you asked and today I was in the mood to write something smutty, here's another chapter. I will flag it as a WIP because I have a few more ideas, but I can't say for sure when I'll update and how long this will get.

So Cas and he … had sex. Together. Not really actual penetrative sex either. Not in those many exotic and creative positions Dean had always envisioned. No, they had rubbed one out against each other.

In the gym. Like fratboys. It would be ridiculous if it hadn’t been so mind-blowingly good.

Dean sits on his bed and stares at the door. He had fled the room after it happened, after that loaded moment in which Cas had made sure Dean realizes the whole sheer enormity of it all. As if he hadn’t been aware before. Dean knows in his gut that this will change things forever. It had been hanging between them for years, and Dean had (kinda) known Cas wanted it, too. He just … hadn’t known for _certain_.

Things he knows now:

1) Castiel, Angel of the Lord, celestial badass extraordinaire really does want him, Dean Winchester, in _that_ way.

2) Cas’ hair can look even more like sex hair when there’s actual sex involved.

3) Cas’ face goes all soft when he comes.

4) Dean is seriously, royally fucked.

He wipes his mouth as he tries to erase the feeling of Cas’ lips on his, of the way Cas bit into Dean’s bottom lips and licked into his mouth. When Dean had thought about getting it on with Cas before, he had pictured Cas either shy and a bit awkward, or all bossy and otherworldy. The reality of their encounter had been neither. Cas had been needy and demanding, yet he yielded in the most delicious way when Dean had taken the reins. It had been perfect.

And Dean wanted it again. One might think once he got it out of his system, his need for Cas would lessen, but it only grew while he sat there in his dim room, minute after minute, while the memories of the gym swirled in his mind and taunted him.

What was he supposed to do now? It’s clear this is a bad idea, that he or Cas or both of them will get hurt if they carried on. The life they lived isn’t made for romance, and romance it is he’s talking about here (to himself), however much Dean would like to keep it strictly friends with benefits. If they let this unfold, it would be all out, no holds barred, a Serious Relationship. _With feelings_.

Because feelings he had, lots of them, and he had had them for years. And while he had doubted the _nature_ of Cas’ feelings for a long time, he always knew without a shadow of the doubt that the thing Cas feels for him is profound.

He might as well say it in his own mind. He loves Cas. And he’s pretty sure Cas loves him too. His stomach lurches when he turns the sentences over in his head, repeats them until he’s dizzy and the words begin to lose their meaning, before they find it again and punch him in the face with it.

Love. It’s a dangerous thing; to feel it, to share it, to lose it.

His hands tremble. He opens and closes them in his lap. His come is drying in his underwear and starts to itch. He should get up and shower. He should get up, find Cas and tell him it had all been a terrible mistake. Meant nothing. Just a little roll in the hay, it happens when the adrenaline gets going, buddy. He should get up and leave the bunker and never turn back.

Instead he lies down and closes his eyes. Cas is right there behind his lids, waiting to fill his mind again. Sitting in his lap and grinding down on his cock, a look between wonder and fear on his face. Dean’s body fights to get him hard again and it feels filthy in his stained boxer briefs, but in some weird way, he doesn’t want to wash it off just yet, wants the remnants of what happened a little bit longer on his skin. He rubs the front of his pants slowly and reaches up to play with his nipple. Maybe this is the solution, he muses, he just needs to get himself off more often, so he won’t misstep again with Cas.

Cas. In the gym Cas had moved until the head of Dean’s cock had nudged against his hole, and Dean’s vision had whited out with the force of how much he wanted more of that. The thought of being inside Cas, fucking into him and make him whimper with pleasure does the trick now. He’s stirring in his pants, against all odds and despite the fact that he’s not twenty anymore and shouldn’t get it up again for at least another thirty minutes.

He shoves his hand past his waistband and finds his hardening erection, still slick with come. Cas’ name is on his lips when he groans. And it’s Cas’ pliant body he envisions when he tightens his fist and starts to move it over his cock, base to tip, and back down, in a slow rhythm.

If, if, if … he would do it like this. He moves his hips in a gentle roll, up into the slick tunnel of his palm. Cas would put his hands on Dean’s chest and his jaw would be slack and his cock would weep unto Dean’s stomach while Dean rocked into him. Steady and deep.

Sweat breaks out all over his body and trickles down his temples and chest. Dean shoves down his pants and underwear and opens his legs as he pushes his feet into the mattress to get better leverage, completely lost in the fantasy. A welcome draft is cooling his skin, counterpoint to the fire burning in his gut and the wet heat of his fist. Faster now, sharp thrusts that would aim right at Cas’ sweet spot and make him cry out with pleasure.

 _Cas_ , the blood sings in his veins.

 _Cas_ , the fire roars in his spine.

“Cas,” he whines as his muscles tense and his body is screaming for release.

A cool hand touches his arm.

Dean’s eyes fly open to find Cas leaning over him over him. Cas’ lips are puffy, swollen, parted, and he’s breathing hard. He tugs on Dean’s arm until Dean loosens his grip on his cock. Shocked and disoriented, Dean lets go without complaint.

With a satisfied grunt, Cas sits down next to him and curls his finger around Dean in a gesture that’s half tender, half possessive. With dark and wide blown eyes, Cas watches Dean’s cock vanish in his fist.

Dean’s lust addled brain is too hazy to catch up and so he just lies back and lets Cas takes over instead of asking all the questions that will surly drive him crazy later. _How long have you been there? Shouldn’t we talk about this first?_ He’d been so close, and his body is trying to get there again after the shock of Cas’ intrusion.

“What did you think about?” Cas asks now with a rough voice.

Dean licks his lips and keens when Cas twists his hand on the upstroke. Always a quick learner and ready to exploit weaknesses, Cas does it again immediately.

“You,” Dean rasps. And because he’s still delirious with the need to come, he adds, “fucking you.”

Cas’ breath catches and his grip tightens at that. He keeps stroking Dean, too slow to actually get him to come, but enough to keep him on the brink. Their gazes meet and Dean pleads with his eyes, not ready to beg yet.

“Hmmm,” Cas sighs. “I would like that. I think. Tell me about it.”

“I would make you feel so good.” It slips from Dean’s lips before he can think and he is rewarded with a slightly faster pace. His cheeks are burning, – dirty talk had never really been his forte and this is _Cas_ , who once got thrown out of a brothel for giving advice on daddy issues –, but he needs Cas to go faster and he’ll do whatever it takes to get more of that slightly rough palm.

“I’d fuck you nice and deep,” he breathes, “watch you as you come apart.”

The rustling of fabric makes Dean look down Cas’ body. Cas fumbles with his pants one-handed, shoves them down to his thighs and bares his dick to Dean’s gaze, already hard and leaking. Dean’s mouth waters at the sight. He reaches out and teases the weeping slit with his thumb.

Cas resumes his stroking.

“Tell me more.” Cas’ voice, impossibly deep and full of gravel, sends sparks through Dean’s groin. Cas sighs when Dean’s hand sips down to cup his balls and tease the tender skin behind them.

“God, Cas, you would feel amazing, hot and tight and perfect,” Dean’s babbling now and he bucks up his hips to get more of that slick friction that’s driving him slowly insane. He wouldn’t survive the real thing, he thinks, a sudden revelation, if Cas’ hand makes him lose his mind like this.

He pushes his own hand further down Cas’ pants and further still when Cas lifts slightly to grant Dean more access. The tip of his index finger brushes against Cas’ hole, and they both groan at the feeling. Dean can do nothing more that rub over the sensitive skin, but the thought of being inside Cas and the low whimpers he can draw from Cas with just this are enough to let him topple over the edge.

His orgasm slams into him without forewarning, and his whole body seizes with the force of it. Cas never slows, wrings every ounce of pleasure from Dean until his stomach and chest are painted with his release, until Dean trembles with oversensitivity and falls back onto the bed.

His hand is still under Cas’ ass, his fingers still pressed against his entrance. Cas murmers, “Keep touching me,” as he wraps his come stained hand around himself and strips his cock in sharp, fast movements, eyes glued to Dean’s stomach and his softening cock, then roaming over his whole body until they find Dean’s open mouth.

Dean tugs back his hand, ignoring the glare Cas shoots him, and brings it to his lips to suck on his fingers. Cas’ gaze is a blazing presence as he stares and stares. The movement of Cas’ hand stills.

When his fingers are wet with saliva, Dean lets them slip from his lips to bring them back between Cas’ open thighs. Their eyes lock. Dean circles Cas’ entrance with a slick fingertip and Cas gasps as Dean pushes against the tightness for the first time. Dean eases back and pushes again, a little deeper this time, and a sigh tumbles from Cas lips, and his pupils blow even wider when Dean’s finger slips inside. Impossibly hot. Smooth molten heat.

Dean leans up to kiss Cas and steal the soft sounds from his lips. The angle isn’t perfect and his wrist starts to ache and this isn’t at all what he would have planned for Cas, but – once again – it’s perfect in all its imperfection. Cas starts moving his hand again and rocks back onto Dean’s fingers. His jaw falls slack while Dean keeps kissing him with small nibbles and bites.

“You feel so good, honey, just like I thought,” Dean whispers against Cas’ mouth, and brings his free hand up to bury his fingers in Cas’ hair and hold him close. Cas begins to tense in waves around his finger, and his rhythm get uncoordinated, desperate. Dean kisses along Cas’ jaw to his ear, catches the earlobe between his teeth to bite down gently, before he murmurs, “Come for me.”

Cas’ body goes perfectly still. He clenches hard around Dean’s finger. And then the first hot pulse of his come lands on Dean’s already marked chest. “Dean,” Cas groans, and Dean holds him while his climax wracks his body in waves. They fall back onto the bed in a tangled heap, Dean’s hand between Cas’ thighs, Cas’ cheek on Dean’s filthy chest, the thick smell of sex and sweat filling the room like a cloud.

Dean’s lids grow heavy and he closes them for just a second. They’ll have to get up and get that shower. And they’ll have to talk.

Decisions have to be made.

He’s not quite sure there’s a way back after this. And he’s not quite sure he could take it if he wanted to.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How about some angst between all the Christmas fluff? 
> 
> (Happy holidays.)

 

 

Dean is quiet when they get up and cross the hall to the bathroom together. Without a word, he grabs Cas’ shirt and tugs it over his head, pushes down his pants and waits for Cas to step out of them. All the while, he touches Cas more than he has to, and he doesn’t have to undress him in the first place.

Cas is incredibly tired, his body strung out with the two orgasms and the emotional turmoil he experienced in the last hours. It’s a wondrous thing to be close to Dean and share such intense pleasure with him, but this … this Cas likes even more. The slow and sluggish movements, the unhurried physical contact. Dean undresses quickly and efficient and steps into the shower to adjust the water temperature.

Cas stands in the middle of the room, unsure. He feels exposed under the bright white lights and it goes beyond being naked. Is he invited to join Dean or is he supposed to wait his turn? When he had followed Dean to his room and found him pleasuring himself, he hadn’t stopped to think it through, just given in to the need to touch. Now he doesn’t feel as bold. He bites his lip and follows the line of Dean’s body as he turns into the warm spray with closed eyes.

“Cas,” Dean grumbles. “You comin’?”

Warmth blooms behind Cas’ ribs. He’s still welcome near Dean. With two longs strides, he reaches the shower stall and stands next to Dean who makes space so Cas can step under the water, too. Their shoulders brush. Dean’s eyes open and he smirks as he takes in Cas’ disheveled state, before he reaches for the shampoo on the little shelf and squirts some of the liquid into his palm.

“Turn around.”

Cas turns obediently and a second later, Dean’s hands are in his hair and massage the shampoo into his scalp. It feels incredible, and the tension between his shoulder blades lessens with every firm touch of Dean’s fingertips. Cas sighs happily and Dean chuckles.

“You like that, huh?”

“Yes,” it comes out more like a moan but Cas can’t make himself regret it, “very much.”

Dean hums a low note and keeps working, then tugs on Cas’ shoulder so he steps under the spray and rinses the foam out of his hair. When he blinks his eyes open again, Dean is watching him with an unreadable expression.

“Dean, I… we…” Cas doesn’t know what he wants to say, but Dean interrupts him anyway.

“Not now,” Dean says. “Later. Not now.” His eyes are sad.

Cas nods. This is a reprieve, just like he feared. No-mans-land. With trembling hands, Cas takes the shampoo bottle and holds it up in question. Dean turns around. Cas starts washing Dean’s hair, lets his finger brush through the soft strands and feels the solid bone underneath. Dean gets pliant under his ministrations and lets his head fall back so Cas can reach his temples.

Cas eyes burn as he tries to memorize the feeling of Dean’s hair against his fingertips, the soft curve of his freckle-dusted shoulder, the minute sighs when Cas touches the sensitive spot behind Dean’s ear. This may be the first and the last time Dean will allow this kind of intimacy. Cas will make sure to commit every detail to memory.

When he’s done Cas gently nudges Dean back under the spray and watches as the big white suds travel down Dean’s body, over his broad shoulders and the knobs of his spine, into the dips on his lower back, over the round muscle of his ass and his strong thighs. Rapt, Cas follows the path with his fingertips, barely touching.

Dean turns. Their eyes meet, and there’s a sense of longing in Dean’s gaze that reminds Cas of Dean’s prayers. It sets every cell in Cas’ vessel on fire with the need to give Dean what he craves, but what that is, Cas doesn’t know. He doesn’t know if Dean needs Cas to come closer or keep his distance, he doesn’t know if Dean himself knows what he needs. His mind is buzzing with questions, but Dean won’t answer. Not now. Later.

Dean grabs the soap and lathers up some foam before his brings his hands to Cas’ skin. He never knew how good it feels to have Dean’s hands on him like this, in a simple gesture of care and borne from the need to be close. Cas closes his eyes as Dean trails his palms over Cas’ shoulders and his chest, his stomach and – after a nearly imperceptible pause – over his flaccid cock.

Maybe Dean is doing what Cas did. Maybe he’s building memories, and makes the best of this chance to be close and cherish it. Cas sighs into the feeling and tries to silence the nagging doubt and the fear of what will happen when they leave this room. When Dean is done, Cas reciprocates again and runs his soapy handy over Dean’s body to wash away the evidence of their shared pleasure.

And then, it’s over. They’re both clean and there’s nothing more to do.

The spray beats down on them where they stand just inches apart. Dean makes no move to leave. Cas stays still, too. It’s hard to blink against the water, but Cas keeps his eyes open even though they sting, to watch Dean’s features as they tremble through an array of emotions. Dean’s hand comes up slowly to cup Cas’ cheek. Cas places his own hand over Dean’s heart and feels it beating steadily under his palm.

The kiss that follows is slow and tender. Cas’ heart breaks silently when they part.

They just stepped outside the shower and started drying off when they hear the door to the bunker fall shut with a loud bang. Cas dresses hastily. Two minutes later, Sam shouts down the hallway. “Guys, you here? I brought dinner.”

Without a glance back, Cas slips out of the bathroom and stumbles to his room to change. When he comes to the kitchen, Dean sits at the table with the back to him. He talks around a bite of the burger he’s holding in his hand.

Sam greets Cas with a big smile and indicates another box sitting on the table. Cas sits down and opens it gingerly. A cheeseburger from their favorite joint.

“Anyway, I just told Dean about a case I found in the newspaper. From the report I’d say werewolf. We should check it out.”

With a small smile at Sam’s excitement, Cas unwraps the burger and takes a bite. It tastes like ash, but he chews and keeps his head down.

“Sounds good. We’ve been holed up here way too long,” Dean says with a full mouth. Sam blinks in suprise - they've only been back a day after all - but he doesn't comment. “We can do some more research later and head out first thing tomorrow.”

Sam digs into his salad with gusto, clearly oblivious to the tension in the room. Dean only sits a few feet from him, but it feels like he’s miles away. Cas eats and says nothing while the brothers make plans. When he choked down the last bite of his burger, he stands and thanks Sam for the meal. His own voice sounds rough to him, as if he didn’t use it for a long time. Sam looks up and smiles.

“You coming too, Cas? We could make a road trip out of it, just the three of us.”

Cas clears his throat. His gaze flicks over to Dean who doesn’t meet his eye. Dean’s shoulders look tense and there’s a tick in his jaw. Maybe a little distance will be the right thing. Cas looks away from Dean to address Sam.

“No. I’ll stay here. I wanted to … read some books I found … in the library.” The excuse is weak at best, but Sam seems to believe him.

“Okay. Next time maybe.”

Cas nods and leaves the kitchen with a sudden sense of loss weighing down his steps. His whole body aches with it. He wanted Dean to teach him how to fight, but what Cas really learned today is defeat.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any mistakes or incoherencies, I wanted to post this quick ... I might edit it some more later. I hope y'all had wonderful holidays.

 

 _Fucking coward_ , he thinks, over and over, like a sick kind of mantra. _You’re a fucking coward._ For some reason, a reason he doesn’t want to look at too closely, it’s the voice of his father he hears as he thinks it. Which should be funny, considering John would have his ass for getting it on with a guy and an angel at that.

He laughs humorlessly. Sam looks at him with a weird expression. They hadn’t talked much on the road, and when they had reached their destination, it had been clear pretty quick that the whole thing was a bust. For the first time ever, the alleged animal attack had been just that. The body had been found in the woods, and the coroner had told them the victim had died of a heart attack before the local wildlife had taken the chance for an easy meal.

It had been late when they came out of the coroner’s office and Sam had suggested they crash in a nearby motel before driving back. Dean had agreed, much to Sam’s surprise, and now he lies on one of the cheap motel beds, a lump in the mattress digging uncomfortably into his back, and the voice of his dead father echoes through his head on a loop.

 _Coward_.

Dean had promised Cas to talk it out, but then Sam had come home and Cas had run from the bathroom as if he’s been burned, and Dean had lost his nerve. The shower with Cas had shown him all too clearly what he’d been missing the last years, maybe his whole life, and getting this close to another person had made the alarm bells ringing in his mind.

Even now, his palms are sweating as he remembers Cas’ hands on him, the way they had touched each other, the way Cas had looked at him with some kind of silent adoration Dean was pretty sure he didn’t deserve. He doesn’t deserve Cas, stat, but he’s given up on figuring out what the millennia old angel saw in him. It had become a fact of nature, like a mountain or a storm, unstoppable, unchangeable, making him feel small in contrast.

Dean falls into an uneasy sleep and dreams of hands exploring his body, of soft moans and sighs. He dreams of kissing Cas in the moonlight. When he awakes his back hurts and his heart aches. He’s silent on the drive back while Sam chatters about the non-case and how crazy it is to actually witness a real animal attack, going on about the bite marks and the differences between cugars and werewolves.

When Dean doesn’t react aside from a few grunts and _yeah_ ’s, Sam sighs and turns on the radio. Dean’s fingers a thrumming away on the wheel. The closer they get to the bunker, the more restless he feels. There’s an itch under his skin that’s building into a constant buzzing in the back of his mind, and with a start he realizes he’s itching for fight, and feels betrayed that he didn’t get one from the case.

Back at the bunker, he tosses his duffel in the war room and goes searching for Cas. The library is empty, as is Cas’ room, and the buzz in the back of his skull grows into a howl as he ponders the possibility that Cas might just be gone. His search grows frantic, and am gingerly steps aside when Dean storms past him to check the kitchen.

He finds him in the gym of all places. Dean stands by the door, feet glued to the spot, as he takes in the scene in front of him. Cas is shirtless, clad only in another pair of these annoying black yoga pants. His fist connect with the big red punching ball hanging in the corner, thump-thump-thump, steady as a beating heart. His chest is gleaming with sweat, his stance open, naked feet perfectly balanced on the mat. Dark hair sticks to his forehead and curls around his ears, and his lips are twisted into a snarl. He looks like he’s been at it for hours. He looks like a fantasy come to life.

Dean takes a step forward without consciously deciding to. Cas’ eyes dart over, and he lowers his fists to his sides but doesn’t otherwise acknowledge Dean’s presence. So he’s pissed, Dean thinks, and he has every right, too. At least he’s still here.

Instead of going right to Cas he positions himself at the edge of the sparring mat and gets into position. Cas stares at him. A minute ticks by, two. This is him, still being a coward, but he just doesn’t know how to say what’s on his mind, and that itch is still there. Dean slips out of his boots and socks, tugs his shirt over his head and when he looks over again, Cas has come a few steps closer.

“We need to get over defensive moves again,” Dean mumbles, and Cas brow arcs like he knows exactly that this is bullshit.

“You want to show me how to avoid making myself vulnerable?” Cas says now, acid in his voice, and Dean feels it like a punch to his gut. Seems like Cas worked himself into a bitter rage while he was gone. Dean can’t blame him.

“Yeah,” he croaks, not meeting Cas’ eyes, ignoring the blatant accusation.

“Then attack me,” Cas tells him calmly but Dean can hear the steel underneath.

Dean surges, blindly, and tries to get a punch in. Cas steps out of his reach. Dean tries again, and fails again. The third blow hits Cas on the shoulder, but Dean pulled it so it won’t hurt. Cas hand shoots out, grabs Dean’s wrist, and before he realizes what’s happening, Cas has his arm bent across his back and effectively immobilized Dean.

Cas’ breath his hot on his neck when he speaks again. “Was that okay?”

“Yeah,” Dean says. “Let go.”

Cas holds his wrist just a moment longer before he opens his hand and Dean can turn again. “Why did you leave?” Cas asks now, still deceivingly cool and collected.

“Why did you stay?” Dean shoots back. Anger’s rising in him again, a black wave that clouds his vision. He might have no right to want anything from Cas, but he’s not the only one who bolted.

Cas makes a motion to attack him again. Dean does. Cas catches his wrist again and catches the other one too as Dean, desperate, goes in with a left-handed swing. Cas’ palms are hot and his fingertips are pressing into his pulse point. Dean’s blood is surging, thrumming heavily against the pressure, and his gaze is drawn to a single drop of sweat that’s sliding slowly from Cas’ clavicle over the middle of his chest. Dean licks his lips.

“I wasn’t sure I would be welcome,” Cas admits. He lets go of Dean’s hands and Dean crowds into Cas’ space, his anger giving way to lust so fast it makes him dizzy.

“I always want you,” he murmurs, raw with how true it is, and watches Cas’ eyes go wide and dark when their chests touch. Dean takes in every detail of the transformation. They are both dumb, and they both don’t know what they’re doing, but one thing is abundantly clear: They’re in this together, both broken, both lost. Cas’ back hits the wall and Dean presses closer still. Cas is shivering when Dean brings his hands up to trail along Cas’ sides. His skin is still gleaming with sweat, and hot under Dean’s fingertips.

Dean opens his mouth to say something, but Cas’ lips are on him before he can get a single syllable out. It’s a brutal kiss, with no finesse whatsoever, a stark contrast to Cas’ calm and arrogant defiance before. Cas angles his head and slips his tongue inside Dean’s mouth with a groan while his hand tangles in Dean’s hair and tugs him where he wants him. The rough, demanding hunger of Cas’ lips and teeth and tongue makes Dean’s knees weak. Heat coils in his gut like a living thing. He whimpers when Cas sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and bites down not too gently.

Their breathing is harsh and loud in the wide room. Dean can smell Cas, his sweat and his own unmistakable scent, somehow more pronounced now that he’s almost human. It reminds him of thunderstorms and the ocean, salt and sky. Cas his hard against Dean’s thigh and Dean presses forward a little more to add friction. He wants to taste all of Cas, lick the salt from his skin and make him squirm under his tongue.

Dean breaks the kiss to mouth along Cas’ jaw and lick along the shell of his ear before he drops his head and bites a line down his neck to his shoulder. When he turns his head can see them both in the large mirror at the other side of the room, and watches himself as he drops down to his knees and fumbles with the strings of Cas’ pants. Cas makes a sound as if he’s wounded, and when Dean looks up, he sees a dark look full of need and hunger on Cas’ face. With shaking hands, Dean grabs the waistband and shoves the dark fabric down. Cas is wearing nothing underneath. His cock is thick and red and already leaking a tiny drop of precome. Dean catches it with his tongue, just barely grazing the skin, but Cas’ hips jump at the contact and he gasps out a choked, beautiful sound.

Dean’s gaze darts to the side to see their reflection again. Cas’ cock looks obscene so close to Dean’s face and his own pants grown uncomfortably tight from just the thought of what’s about to happen. He pops the button of his jeans and tugs down the zipper, sighing at the relief, before he runs his palms up Cas’ legs and pats his right thigh until Cas opens his stance a little.

It’s been a long time since he’s last blown a guy, but his mouth is watering at the sight of Cas’ thick erection bouncing in front of his face with every pulse of his blood. He licks a long stripe along the underside from base to tip before he closes his lips around the head and sucks lightly. Cas moans his name and tightens his hold on Dean’s hair, pushes his dick closer, deeper, and Dean opens and feels his lips widen around the girth. Cas’ cock is warm and heavy on his tongue. Dean revels in the sensation for a moment and groans when Cas gets impatient and presses forward.

Cas has no idea about blow job etiquette, and Dean is strangely turned on by the fact that Cas just takes what he wants. Dean steadies his palms on Cas’ thighs and starts bobbing his head, presses his tongue flat against the underside of Cas’ dick, encourages him to move his hips. The blunt head of Cas’ cock nudges against his throat with every other thrust and Dean breathes heavily through his nose to keep from gagging. Tears are streaming down his face and spit dribbles down his bottom lip and on his chin, but the noises Cas makes and the way he swells in Dean’s mouth are all worth it.

With blurry eyes, he looks up to see Cas’ head thrown back against the wall. His lips are open and spit-slick, his hair even darker with sweat, his chest heaving, his stomach muscles constricting. He’s gorgeous in his uninhibited lust, and Dean opens his jaw wider to take him even deeper. Cas pants his name like it’s something holy, _Dean_ - _Dean_ - _Dean_ , and maybe that’s true in a way, because Cas gave up heaven for him, and in between all the pain and agony that decision brought him, this is something _good_ , something Dean can give him in return.

With the next roll of Cas’ hips, Dean feels the muscles of his throat give around the head of Cas’ cock. His own spit drips down into his lap, soaking the fabric of his boxer briefs. His blood his roaring in his ears, nearly drowning out the broken litany of Cas’ pleasure.

Cas is huge inside him, and he feels full and used in the best of ways, there for Cas to do as he pleases. Even more than the sights and the smells, this is what he craves, the power and the trust. Cas’ thighs are trembling under his palms, muscles constricting as he’s getting closer. Dean can’t make out words anymore, just groans and needy whines.

Another thrust. He swallows. Cas’ body curves above him, and his cock jerks inside Dean’s mouth. Dean presses forward again as Cas comes down his throat with a shout. Dean coughs and gags, but swallows eagerly as much as he can, before he draws back and Cas’ come coats his tongue and leaves a heady, bitter taste when he slips out of his mouth.

As if his strings have been cut, Cas slides down the wall until he’s sitting on the floor, legs open around Dean, a look of pure bliss on his face. Dean grins at him and surges forward to kiss his open lips and darts his tongue inside to give Cas a taste of himself.

His own erection demands attention, now that Cas is satisfied, and Dean slips a hand down into his briefs to takes himself in hand. He’s wet with precome and the first touch is almost too much. Dean sighs against Cas’ swollen lips.

“God, Cas,” he whispers hoarsely, his throat still raw. He gets up on his knees again and starts jerking himself faster, tighter, eyes glued to Cas’ slack mouth, imagining how it would feel to have those lips close around him. Their gazes meet, and Cas licks his lips. Heat is building in Dean’s spine as he takes in Cas, debauched and sated, slumped against the wall. Cas’ right hand comes up to close around Dean’s own, his other hand closing around Dean’s hip and tugging him forward. The first tentative brush of Cas’ lips has Dean groaning. He rubs the head of his dick along Cas’ plump bottom lip, smearing precome all over it, and Cas’ tongue darts out to lick it off while his hand keeps guiding Dean’s palm and setting a faster pace. The pressure in his groin rises, and Dean tries to sit back, but Cas keeps him in place and closes his eyes, lips still parted, invitation clear.

“Jesus.” With a shout, Dean comes. Ropes of white paint Cas’ face, splash over his neck and onto his chest, and Cas moans with every pulse, wantonly, as if he can’t get enough of it. The image sears itself into Dean’s mind: filthy, deviant, fucking beautiful. Dean keeps jerking himself until he’s finally spent. He sits back and reaches out to wipe a drop of come from Cas’ left eye with his thumb, then brings it down to Cas’ lips and pushes it into his mouth. Cas laps it up eagerly and sucks around the digit until it’s clean. His gaze is unfocused when he opens his eyes again. Dean swipes through the mess on Cas’ cheek and bring his fingers to his mouth again and again, mesmerized when Cas’ lips close around them to lick it all clean. Then he leans in to replace his fingers with his tongue, to lick inside and chase their combined taste, to find Cas opening up and meet him slow and sweet. When they part, Dean brings their foreheads together with a low chuckle.

“We may suck at talking, but this,” he brushes the back of his hand against Cas’ nipple and is delighted when it earns him a tiny gasp, “this we do quite well.”

“I am no expert in human sexuality, but I’d say we do more than ‘quite well’,” Cas grumbles, and he sounds offended.

“What’d you call it then?” Dean teases and pinches Cas’ nipple again before he rubs over the swelling nub, and Cas arcs into the touch.

Cas is silent for a long time.

“It feels like flying.” Cas whispers finally, and Dean knows this is not a metaphor. His heart sinks when he remembers the reason Cas is here now, the prize Cas paid for being with him. There’s nothing he can say, and his throat is tight with regret and empathy, so he does the only thing he can think of.

He leans in and kisses Cas again.

 

 

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry this took so long and isn't even beta'd, but I wanted to have it posted ASAP. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for the support, I know it's always a gamble to follow spur-of-the-moment-WIPs so cheers to all of you who suscribed and tagged along. I'm currently working on an outline for a longer story (with a real plot for a change) so keep your eyes open for that.

This time, they leave the gym together. Dean is quiet at his side, but the atmosphere has shifted. The air doesn’t feel as if it wants to stifle Cas. He takes deep breaths and walks next to Dean, still hearing Dean’s words in his mind. No, they both aren’t good at talking about this. Cas doesn’t know what to say most of the time, unsure how to address what happened. He’s not sure where this is leading, he only knows he wants it to lead _somewhere_ , that he isn’t ready to give up the new kind of relationship they are building.

They shower together. Dean’s hands are soft on his skin. Through the curtain of water, he looks like a figment of a fever-dream as Cas blinks through the spray. A freckled shoulder. Forest-green eyes cast down under long lashes. Strong calloused scarred tender hands. Shards of a broken mirror, each showing a piece of Dean, the broken and beautiful human Cas traded his station and his wings and his grace for. He’d do it again in a blink.

Cas clears his throat against the onslaught of emotion Dean’s image always incites. “What do you want from me?”

Dean looks up, as if he, too, just woke up from a dream. He leans back against the shower stall and watches Cas with careful eyes. “Cas…” he starts, and rubs his hand over his lips, before he lets it drop to his side. “I honestly don’t know.”

Something inside Cas tightens, and he lets out a small gasp. It hurts. He starts to turn away. If Dean doesn’t even know what he wants, they should end this right now.

A hand lands on his shoulder, warm and steady. “Wait. I mean. Fuck!” The hand tugs until he’s facing Dean again, and Cas squares his shoulders before he meets Dean’s eyes.

Cas doesn’t say anything. He waits. The water rushes down around them, and the seconds stretch into minutes until time loses all meaning. Dean’s hand is still on his shoulder. Slowly, Dean lifts it to cup Cas’ neck with strong fingers and brushes his thumb over his jaw. Cas can feel the slight tremble in his touch.

“I love you,” Dean says simply and Cas’ heart surges.

“I love you, too,” Cas rasps.

“And I want to be with you.” Dean states it calmly, but Cas can see the flicker of doubt in his eyes.

“I want to be with you, too.” Cas brings his hand to Dean’s neck and mirrors his touch. They stand a few inches apart, and everything in Cas yearns to close the distance. He takes a small step forward. He still needs answers.

“But what does that mean?”

Dea chuckles, but the smile that stays on his lips is a real one, one of the rare smiles that brighten Dean’s face like the sun bursting thorough rainclouds. “Hell if I know, man.” He steps closer, too, and holds Cas’ head in his hand while Cas leans back to look up into Dean’s eyes. Their chests brush. Cas loops his arm around Dean’s neck. Dean’s gaze drops to Cas’ lips. “We could … go on a date, maybe. Or watch a movie together later. Honestly I have no idea, I’m not exactly relationship material and this is a kinda unique situation.”

Cas parts his lips under the weight of Dean’s gaze. “So we’re making it up as we go?”, he asks and Dean nods. Warmth spreads behind Cas’ ribs and his skin tingles where it meets Dean’s as if his body wants to get closer and closer still. Dean leans in to kiss him, then, hesitant and tender, a soft press of lips that feels like a promise.

“Let’s go to bed.”

They dry off silently, but every now and then, Cas looks over to Dean and finds his gaze on him. They smile when their eyes meet. Cas’ heart flutters in his chest each time. He’s loved Dean for years, but now he feels like he’s falling in love with him for the first time, as he experiences all the human emotions that go along with it, lust and insecurity, excitement, happiness, affection, tenderness, desire. So many feelings, and each one of them intense like a physical blow, contrasting each other, amplifying each other.

For the first time, he understands why Dean has always been afraid of this.

With towels secured around their hips, they exit the bathroom and walk over to Dean’s door. Dean grips the handle and turns it to open it wide, and Cas steps through the threshold. When Dean closes the door behind them, he leans against it and takes a deep breath. His eyes flicker to the bed before they land on Cas again. “Are you sure about this?”

Cas squares his shoulders. He might not know a lot about these things but he knows one thing for certain. “I want to be with you,” he states simply, and it’s true. Whatever Dean is willing to share with him, he’ll take it.

Dean steps closer until he’s in Cas’ _personal space_. Cas remembers when Dean taught him about it, and when Cas realized that Dean’s was the only personal space he only ever wanted to be in, and how confusing it was at the beginning that his whole being was drawn to this one human, the human with the glowing soul that fought him tooth and nail when he rescued him from hell. Dean’s hands are on the towel and tug until it falls to the ground. Fingertips trail over the thin skin on his hips, over his hipbones as Dean leans in and brushes his lips over Cas’ neck. Cas shivers.

“Lie down.” Dean holds his gaze as Cas takes a step back, sits on the bed, lies down. Dean stands beside him for a long moment, just looking at him, deep in thought. Cas feels exposed under the scrutiny, but he doesn’t move. Dean looks beautiful in the low light of his room, and he takes Cas in as if he’s seeing him for the first time. At long last, he kneels down on the bed beside Cas’ hip and leans over to kiss him. “I wanna make you feel good, Cas,” he whispers between soft kisses.

“You already are,” Cas whispers back and gasps when Dean bites down gently on his earlobe.

Dean chuckles. “Mmmmh, there’s still a few things we haven’t done yet.” He trails kisses down Cas’ neck and chest, closes his lips around one nipple and sucks it into his mouth. Pleasure rises inside Cas, instantly and powerful, brings back the deep ache, the hunger for Dean that feels like nothing he ever felt before. He grabs Dean’s head and buries his fingers in the still slightly wet strands.

“I never knew,” he says as Dean licks over the sensitive nub and closes his teeth around it. “I never knew it could feel like this.” Dean’s hands are everywhere, on his stomach, on his thighs, and all Cas can think is _more_. He opens his legs and sighs when Dean’s hands trail slowly up from his knees.

“Turn around.” Dean’s voice is low. Cas turns until he lies on his belly. “Hands and knees,” Dean says, and something in Cas wants to argue, because he can’t see Dean anymore and the position feels awkward. Dean sits behind him and strokes his hands all over his back until Cas forgets what he wanted to complain about. Dean presses soft kisses on his lower back and massages his cheeks with both hands, opening him to Dean’s gaze. Cas’ elbows nearly give out when he feels the first tentative brush of Dean’s lips against his entrance, breath hot on Cas’ skin, thumbs holding him open.

He did his research, read about all the things two people could do to give each other pleasure, he dreamed about it, imagined it, but the reality of Dean licking slowly over his hole is something no amount of research could ever prepare him for. His cock stirs, fills out heavy between his legs, and his breath is punched out of his lungs with every flick of Dean’s tongue.

The wetness and the heat are still there, but now there’s pressure, too, and Dean moans when Cas’ body relaxes and the muscles gives just a tiny bit, before Dean resumes teasing the skin around Cas’ hole. Cas pushes back, eagerly, and Dean obliges with a low chuckle. Slow, torturously slow, the tip of Dean’s tongue is back, pushing a bit deeper now. It’s incredible, too much, not enough, and Cas grabs the sheets under him and feels his thighs tremble when Dean licks into him again and again. Sweat coats his back and his breathing stumbles around every little move of Dean’s lips and tongue.

When Cas is loose enough that Dean can push in and out of him without resistance, he circles his finger around Cas’ entrance, and Cas holds his breath, waiting for Dean to fill him even more. The fingertip feels different, rougher, harder, and Cas sighs when it finally breaches him, pushes inside his body while Dean still kisses and tongues at his hole. Without warning, Dean curls his finger and presses against Cas’ insides and light explodes behind Cas’ lids.

“Oh,” he mumbles as pure heat courses through his every nerve, and Dean laughs.

“Oh? That all you got?”

Dean finds that spot again, and this time, Cas cries out his name. A second finger presses inside him next to the first one with a slight burn, and Cas feels stretched and open and full, as Dean thrusts slowly in and out, scissors his fingers to lick in between, pushes deep to graze the bundle of nerves again, leaving Cas moaning and shivering and out of his mind. Cas feels like he’s drugged, an addict, and even when he’s drowning in pleasure, he wants more.

“Please, please, please,” he whispers, and pushes back against Dean’s fingers and his mouth.

And then, Dean is gone. Cas whines, and blinks his eyes open slowly, as if he’s waking up from another dream, to find Dean opening the drawer of his bedside table and taking out a few items. He catches Cas looking at him and seems to find his expression funny, because he leans in with a smile and kisses him briefly. “Don’t look at me as if I kicked your cat.”

“I don’t have a cat,” Cas grumbles, but waits patiently while Dean crawls back onto the bed.

“This is gonna be cold,” Dean tells him and Cas utters a high-pitched sound when a cold liquid lands on his hole. He opens his mouth to ask Dean if this is really necessary, but only a broken noise leaves his lips because now… now Dean’s fingers are back, gliding smooth and slick through the lubricant, and Cas is all too ready to forgive the interruption. Dean finds a steady rhythm again, and Cas pants in time with his movements. Dean breathes harshly, too, and Cas looks back to see him with his eyes shut, his bottom lips sucked back between his teeth and his free hand curled around himself. His chest is flushed a deep red.

“Dean,” Cas urges.

Dean opens his eyes, pupils blown and dark, unfocused, but he slips free his fingers and wipes them on the sheet. Cas turns and lies on his back because his neck strains from looking back. His thighs are open around Dean’s sitting form, Dean’s thick erection red and hard like Cas’. Dean grabs the lube and squeezes a fair amount into his hand before he bring it to his cock and gives himself a few more strokes, fully aware of Cas’ hungry gaze.

Dean leans forward and kisses Cas deep and fervently as he positions himself between Cas’ open legs and pushes his thighs up and wider. They moan in unison at the first nudge of Dean’s cock against Cas’ rim, and again when Dean slowly presses forward and Cas feels his body stretching around the girth, wider, wider, spread open by slick heat and pressure.

Dean breathes roughly against Cas’ lips, and Cas reaches up to dig his fingers into Dean’s broad shoulders, to hold on with everything he has while Dean merges their bodies into one. The world narrows down to their breathing and the point where their skin touches and the pulse of Dean’s cock inside Cas, until Dean’s hips are flush against Cas and they are as close as they can get.

“You feel so good, babe,” Dean murmurs against Cas’ lips, and Cas’ heart surges at the endearment and the knowledge that he gives Dean pleasure like this. He moves his hips a little and revels in the groan that elicits from Dean. His own erection is trapped between them, gliding through the wetness that leaks steadily onto his stomach.

Dean pushes up onto his hands and watches Cas squirm, before he pulls back is hips and thrusts into Cas with a long languid movement. A shocked groan lodges in Cas’ throat. This … this is too much. Dean is filling him with heat and glorious pressure and Cas’ whole being is consumed by the feeling of closeness and connection. This is why his father forbid it, he’s sure, for how can one be loyal to a heavenly cause when there’s such exquisite pleasure to be found on earth.

Dean builds a steady rhythm in between the hoarse gasps and the slick movement of their bodies, driving deep into Cas and nudging against the blissfully sensitive spot inside him. Cas grasps Dean’s shoulders like a lifeline, unable to do much else than trying to hold the pieces of himself together while Dean takes him apart with the skillful roll of his hips.

Dean lifts his head to look at him, and Cas can’t fathom the depths of need and love in Dean’s green eyes. They stare at each other, wide-eyed, unblinking, as they breathe in each other’s strangled groans and sharp gasps. The bed creaks with every single one of Dean’s thrusts and Cas muses for a second if they can be heard all through the bunker, if the old thick walls reverberate with the sounds of their carnal pleasure. If Sam is back, he’ll know for sure what’s happening, but Cas can’t feel sorry for him, he couldn’t stop if his life depended on it, not while the powerful tension rises in him like this, not while he can watch Dean chasing the same heights.

His grace surges, unexpected and like a sentient being, and from one second to the next, Cas is overwhelmed by details of multi-layered wavelengths, strings and swirling atoms. He closes his eyes and groans, tries to orientate himself in the shifting reality. It’s overwhelming until he finds his anchor.

Dean’s soul shines bright enough to fill the room with light and warmth, it pulses with urgent desire and unshakeable affection, it weaves together with Cas’ grace until they’re connected in both body and soul. Dean can feel it, too. He cries out when Cas’ grace flows outward and pushes against Dean’s skin to get inside, fill him like Dean is filling Cas, surge through his body to push and tease.

Dean convulses under the onslaught, his strong body one long line of tensed muscle, unable to move, and Cas rolls them over until he’s hovering over Dean and slams his hips down to feel Dean even thicker and deeper inside him. The air crackles with the unrestrained energy of his grace, but Dean doesn’t close his eyes, stares at the light in wonder while he pants and whimpers.

“Cas, I can’t …” His finger ghost over Cas’ sides as if he’s searching for something to hold onto. Tears form at the corner of his eyes. Cas clenches around Dean’s cock as his grace is pulsing through both of them, and Dean shouts, digs his fingernails deep into Cas’ skin, and comes.

The world stands still for an endless second. Cas looks down to where he’s joined with Dean, feels the spurts of Dean’s release deep inside him, watches as his own balls draw tight against his body, every particle of who he is contracting, every tendril of his grace concentrating.

He leans forward and covers Dean’s eyes with his open palms, gentle, before the small point of pure light explodes. Dean gasps as the wave of pressure blasts through the room pushes against the walls. Cas grunts, guttural and almost pained, as his cock jerks and finally, finally spits out his release, paints Dean’s chest and neck white.

The both sides of his self, the angel and the human, are forged together in this moment, truly one for the first time in his existence. The climax of his corporeal form is the bliss of his ethereal one, and both of them are bursting at the seams with love.

He opens his eyes. Lifts his hands. Finds Dean gazing up at him in wonder.

“What the hell, Cas?”

“I’m sorry. I hadn’t anticipated …”

“Never apologize for … that. It was awesome.” Cas’ favorite smile tugs the corners of Dean’s lips upward. “Was that your grace? Is it back?”

Cas can still feel it, quiet now and sated just like his body. “I… think so.”

Dean reaches up and cups his cheek, tenderly. A moment later a boyish grin splits his face. “You think we can fuck back your wings, too?”

Instead of the expected stab to his heart, laughter bubbles up from somewhere deep in his gut, shakes his whole body and makes Dean’s soft cock slip out of him with a slightly disgusting sound, but Cas keeps chuckling and leans in to kiss Dean and press their foreheads together.

“I don’t know. But we might as well try.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [procasdeanating](https://procasdeanating.tumblr.com/post/165223335006/prompt-teach-me-to-fight-deancas-2k-canon) on tumblr. Come say hi!


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